The Cost of Our Lives
by j-belle
Summary: Heero Yuy is a 15 year old, living with his older half-brother, Trowa Barton and his brother's roommate. He's usually without many friends, but his whole world goes for a spin when a long vanished friend re-appears. AU, OOC-ness, shounen-ai later. :)
1. Default Chapter

Well, now. You'd think that I'd've learned by now that I shouldn't be writing. Gundam Wing stories, anyway. I just can't help it, though. It compels me, what can I say?  
  
Warnings: This story is majorly AU, as such, you can expect OOC-ness from almost all of the characters. Especially Heero. But then, it's hard to write him IN character, isn't it? I digress. There's swearing, eventual shounen-ai ( oi, 1+2, and 3+4 will most likely weasel it's way in. ) Umm.. It may be a little dark. It may be a lot dark, considering your personality. And it's a POV. It'll be a little tricky to see who's POV at first, but then.. yeah. It tells you. –cackle.- AND, it will also be a chaptered story.  
  
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing, the characters, even the made up town in this story.. none of it is mine. Not a thing ( By the way, if there's an Attlie, New York, someone can just shoot me. Don't bother suing, it'd be a helluva waste of money. For the person suing. )  
  
And for the record; I do like feedback. I won't hurt you if you review. Good or bad, I'll probably want to give you a cookie.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I stared lethargically ahead; my normally clear cobalt blue eyes were most likely glazed over, in my mind-numbed state. This had to be one of the most boring classes I had ever gone to in my 10 years of schooling.  
  
It was the middle of winter term, and unbelievable cold. Of course, when you live in Attlie, New York, it generally is. And it didn't help that the temperature controls kept bouncing from non-existent, to unbearable heat. Damn shoddy air conditioning services. Just because this is a high school, doesn't mean that people are indifferent to the temperature.  
  
God, could this class get any worse? I blinked a few times, and sat up stiffly in my chair, rubbing my eyes, trying to get some moisture back. Once they had most likely lost that glazed look, and were once again dewy, and probably red from rubbing, I slouched in my desk again, my elbows resting painfully inside my jacket and tee shirt. One hand was in my hair, the other under my chin, the wrist bent at an odd angle, I'm sure.  
  
I liked to read, and everything, but this teacher just killed my English literature class. This was awful. She's slaughtering it beyond repair. Oh well. There are always my books at home, which she can't possibly touch. I hope, anyway.  
  
Sitting through seemingly endless classes like this one always made me remember my elementary school days. Those were the days. If you screwed up a little, no worries, it was fine. You were still a kid, and learning. Of course, school was more fun because of my friends back then. Not implying that I don't have any friends now; I do. One, but one is more than enough for me. I digress.  
  
I had this one friend, who I could never forget. He was always laughing, and playing pranks on the students, and the teachers. Even though a lot of the teachers were telling him to calm down, they always had the tiniest of smiles on their faces when they said it, and a special twinkle in their eyes, saved just for him. It was impossible to /not/ like him. But he had chosen me to be his best friend, way back in kindergarten. I had had a head start on everyone.  
  
He had planned things out perfectly, so that most of the time, I was the one who seemingly did the crime, but the teachers knew him better than that. And I didn't mind. He always got me out of trouble in the end.  
  
I can't help but get a tiny wistful smile in nostalgia. Things were cut short, though. He mysteriously vanished in Sixth Grade. Just vanished without a trace. No one speaks of him. I even watched the news the week he had vanished—something that I never do. Nothing was reported. Just a few people murdered, this was robbed, that was derailed, the same news as usual. ( Which would be the reason as to why I don't watch the news. )  
  
When he was around, I used to talk a lot. I don't talk as much anymore. It was weird. I felt … more than horrible when he vanished. I felt abandoned, alone, and well… just downright shitty. I'm not that open anymore. I usually keep to myself, and am generally pretty apathetic about a lot of things.  
  
One generally is, after having their best friend vanish without a fucking trace. And it didn't help that my parent both died two years ago. They were idiots, anyway.  
  
One night they were both drunk, and arguing. He hit her, and somehow or another, she got a hold of a gun, killed him, then killed herself. Of course… I'm not sure the police know this. They still believe that someone murdered them both; the police get really lazy around here. I know differently. The reason being that I was sitting on the stairs, hidden the shadows, watching the whole horrifying scene unfold. I still have nightmares once in a while, but not as much as right after it happened. The nightmares lost a lot of their scare value too.  
  
I live with my brother, and his roommate, now. Trowa, my brother, is still in college, and he's been best friends with Quatre—his roommate—since like… forever. Before high school, even.  
  
We all live in an apartment about 15 minutes away. It's okay living there, I guess.  
  
But I can't help but wonder how much better life would be if my friend hadn't vanished like he did, when he did.  
  
I miss him a lot, it's weird. Maybe I'm just in withdrawal of a friend in such a connection. No one will ever replace S—  
  
"Heero!" The teacher snaps at me. I sit up, immediately, blinking myself into awareness.  
  
"Yeah?" I responded slowly. A few kids in the back row were snickering.  
  
"Would it be too much trouble to ask for a LITTLE conscious effort of staying alert in my class?"  
  
I was about to respond, "Yes," when the bell rang, and saved me from getting myself in trouble.  
  
I gathered my things, and got out of my chair, blending in with the hoards of other students, the teacher yelling something over the noise level to me, that I couldn't comprehend. Oh well.  
  
The room was gone in one fell whoosh, and I was suddenly in the crowded hallway, the noise level rising amazingly. I elbowed, and shouldered my way over to my locker, did the combination on the padlock, and opened it. I heard a thunk land next to my locker, so loud in my ears that it sounded rather painful.  
  
"Hey," I muttered, loud enough for the person to have heard me over the noise.  
  
I grabbed my thick, bulky, blue overcoat, and my backpack, before sliding on both—coat first, naturally, and closing the locker door, with a bang, while giving a sidelong look to my present partner in crime.  
  
"Hey," Wufei responded.  
  
Wufei Chang was currently my only friend at this cold, indifferent high school some people affectionately call Attlie High. He waited patiently for me to click the lock back into place, before pushing himself off of the lockers with his foot, and we wheedled our way out of the hallway, and outside, where the air hit us like a forty-pound anvil.  
  
I instinctively zipped up my jacket up to the collar, while I noticed Wufei casually buttoning his white parka up.  
  
We headed over to the sidewalk, wearily looking out for any of the idiots around here, who had a bad case of discrimination. I was half-Japanese, and Wufei was full-blooded Chinese, though neither of us had any of our family's accents, as we were both born and raised in America. Despite this, though, due to our family's strong pride of their cultures, we both spoke our ancestors tongue fluently. We even knew a little of each other languages. But since we were both Asian, a few of the morons around here figured us to be stupid easterners, or something along those lines. Hey, it's better to be Asian, than a cowboy, I think.  
  
"Only two more weeks until winter break." I said, almost to myself. If he responded, so be it.  
  
Wufei was odd like that. He only responded to what he deemed 'worthy' of responding. Or he just wasn't paying attention. Though he was American, in every aspect, he had a weird justice-head thing going on. I couldn't figure it out. I didn't feel like figuring it out.  
  
  
  
"Perhaps you're looking forward to it, but you don't have your parents trying to arrange a marriage for you." He muttered darkly. Wufei was very resentful of this, as anyone no doubtedly could tell.  
  
"I don't have parents." I said, matter-of-factly. I would never know what that felt like. I don't think I would have, despite.  
  
He only shrugged in response.  
  
I paused for a moment, his step faltering a few feet ahead of me, before he turned, and looked questioningly at me.  
  
Not meeting his gaze, I stared at a snowdrift by the sidewalk. "I have to buy a gallon of milk for the apartment." Not home. Never home. I felt like an orphan.  
  
"Aa. Ryoukai." He said, in acceptance. He turned, and kept walking without me, as I went the other direction towards the closest Quickie Mart.  
  
The walk was cold, silent, and rather boring. By the time I had gotten to the convientantly placed Convience store at the gas station, my entire face was numb. The sudden heat of the building burned against my frozen skin. I unzipped my jacket so I could move more easily, and walked slowly over to the refrigerated section.  
  
I had to pull twice on the door, because the suctioning was sticky with goop that I don't think I EVER wanted to know what it was. Keeping one hand on the handle, I grabbed one of the yellow gallons of milk, the sudden drop in temperature against my hand, caused my fingers to burn all the more. Well, no, that was wrong. Now they just hurt. Bad. I really ought to have gotten some gloves.  
  
I headed over to the register, taking my time. I wasn't in a hurry, really. The snow that was caked onto the bottom of my jeans was starting to melt, and soak into my skin, freezing it, and making my socks get soggy.  
  
As I turned the corner of one of the mini-aisles, and walked toward the register, I noticed that the cashier—a semi-friend for a long while now, named Howard ( He was a crazy old man. Even in this weather he's wearing sunglasses, and has a long sleeve shirt underneath his Hawaiian shirt. He's always wearing those. )—was talking to a bundled up person, who was sitting on a chair, elbows resting on the counter. It wasn't unusual for Howard to have heart-to-hearts with some of the customers, but this person was new. I hadn't ever seen them before, which, when you've lived in Attlie as long as I have, is really odd. This is an extremely small town. Bad for gossip.  
  
As I approached the counter, and lifted the gallon of milk onto the counter with a thunk, Howard grinned at me, and moved to where he actually /was/ behind the cash register.  
  
"Hey, Heero! How's it goin'?" He asked, as usual.  
  
I shrugged my shoulders heavily in my coat. "It's cold." I said, as I handed him the money.  
  
He laughed heartily at this, and I snuck a glance curiously over at the person. Well, whoever it was, they had chestnut coloured hair. Or at least, their bangs were. The rest of their hair was shoved underneath a black bucket hat. Come to notice it, this person was only wearing black. A black pea-coat, a black turtle neck, black jeans, black boots. Huh.  
  
I tore my gaze away, back to Howard, and my brow furrowed, in thought. "Howard, are you from California?" Curiosity clearly imbedded into my voice.  
  
He laughed heartily, before grinning at me. "Naw, but I've been. I lived there for about 10 years. I'm from Pennsylvania."  
  
I couldn't help it. I stared at him. He was from Amish Country? Or, well, not Amish Country, but the state KNOWN for their Amish?  
  
"Don't look so dubious, Heero! I'm not Amish. I believe in electricity. Though it still confuses me quite a bit…" He said, a grin still playing upon his lips.  
  
I shook my head, and took the plastic bag he had put my milk in, and took one last look at the person.  
  
They turned their head, and their eyes met mine. They were so blue they almost held a violet tint in them. In fact, if I had to describe them to anyone, I'd call them amethyst. But their eyes held a slightly-glazed over look. The person looked way older than whatever their age was—which I presumed to be around my age—even though I don't think it mattered if they were Howard's age. No one should look that emotionally old. For any reason.  
  
They turned their gaze back to Howard, and I turned, and left the little store, and headed straight to the apartment.  
  
All the way to the complex, I couldn't help but wonder what it was about that expression that that person had given me. I had seen it before, I knew, and on occasion, I knew I had even administered it, though usually I was alone.  
  
As I was climbing the stairs to the apartment ( Who the hell had the genius idea to live on the THIRD floor? ), it hit me like a bowling ball rolling down the stairs at top speed. It was the look of the lifeless. The look of utter despair. The look that someone gives when all they REALLY want to do at that moment is go find a quiet corner alone, to do /the/ dirty deed.  
  
No wonder it was so familiar.  
  
I walked down the hallway, and fished the keys out of one of my pockets, before inserting it, and sliding the lock out of the doorframe, and back into the door. I opened the door, and was thankful for the warmth that greeted me. Kicking the door closed behind me, I set the bag onto the ground, and shrugged off my jacket, and backpack, while trying to toe off my snow-crusted shoes at the same time. I wound up having to hop and yank, but the desired came off, and all hit the floor with resounding thuds.  
  
"Oi," I called out. I knew someone was home, by the smells that were wafting out of the kitchenette area. Smelled like… Pasta and vegetables.  
  
"Heero?" Quatre's almost-childish voice called out. Ah, of course. The only thing Trowa can make when it comes to dinner ( That can be considered edible ), is a phone call for pizza.  
  
"Hai, Quatre-kun." I responded. Though Quatre was Arabian to the bone, after living with Trowa for college for so many years, and after being such close friends, he adapted to our native tongue… Or at least, mine. Trowa was my half-brother, but as he wound up with my father for half his life, he learned Japanese, as well. Trowa's biological father was European. Go figure.  
  
"How was school?" He asked, trying to make conversation.  
  
I walked into the small dining room that we all crowded into around 5 o'clock, and leaned heavily against the back of a wooden chair with my forearms, and shrugged my shoulders tensely. "Cold," I supplied, helpfully.  
  
"Still haven't fixed the heating system, I guess." He replied, staring down at a pot that was bubbling, while stirring once in awhile.  
  
Usually conversation ends about there, and I meander off to do nothing in my room, until dinnertime, but this time I stay. "Ne, Quatre-kun, do you know if any new families moved in the neighborhood lately?"  
  
"On the way to classes this morning, I saw moving trucks parked outside 974 Chaplin Road. You know, the house everyone always bickers about how it's haunted, because of the murders that took place down the street. Since it was the only other house on the block, and all…  
  
"The way people talk, it wasn't a wonder that no one wanted to live in there for so long. The people around here have absolutely nothing to do, and have way too much imagination. But I suppose it's no wonder since this town is so small. I mean, they must need something to keep them busy, and something to do—" I think he's still going, but I'm already heading to my room, calling out where the milk is. I'll probably be reprimanded for where I left my coat and shoes too.  
  
A few years ago I probably would have been in a lot of trouble for my shoes, because I was supposed to leave them outside the door, and put on a pair of house slippers, but since living with my half-brother, we didn't really pay that tradition much heed. We had wooden floors, anyway. So no carpet was going to get stained.  
  
I entered my room, and closed the door softly behind me; I think Quatre was still talking. Quatre really was nice, and all, but shit. I think he has too much time on his hands at night, because he's overly talkative. I think so, anyway. Trowa doesn't seem to mind so much.  
  
I padded across the room, and fell onto my made bed ( A habit embedded into my mind when I was very little. Despite the fact that I make my bed, I find it pointless. You're only going to mess it up, anyway. ) my face smothered into my soft down pillows. I stayed like that for a minute, before the moisture from my breath and the heat got to me.  
  
I pulled myself up to my elbows, and flipped over, so I was lying on my back. With a sigh, I sat up, and reached over to turn on my stereo system, before flopping back down again, and closing my eyes. A little nap before dinner wouldn't hurt.  
  
I lay there quietly for a few minutes, my eyes closed, my mind blank. 


	2. Attlie, or just Hell?

A second chapter. Please, someone review? I'd appreciate it? Umm.. Duo makes an appearance in this chapter, and.. yes!   
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story. Not even the empty review box that's not apart of this story.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
After a few minutes of bliss, my eyes pop open, and stare at the ceiling. I shouldn't take naps. It throws off my sleeping schedule, and I'd be up 'til 3.  
  
Gruffly, I sat up, and rubbed my face vigorously, before running my digits through my messy, un-kempt hair. The feeling, for some reason, sent chills all the way down my spine. That happens sometimes, when I do that. It's weird, but I like it, in a weird way.  
  
I pulled myself up from my soft bed, and exited my room quietly, and went to the front door, getting my discarded backpack from my crap that's still piled up a few feet from the door. My backpack is almost always with me, so it just comes as a second nature to have it always with me. I usually just forget that it's even around. Which may or may not be a good thing at times.   
  
Hauling the alleged " heavy " object to my room by the strap, I tossed it across the ground next to my bed, and closed the door quietly behind me, but obviously not quiet enough, as I heard Quatre's yell that it was only about 45 minutes until dinner. Turning up my music, and changing it to a more awakening CD, I sat down on my bed-my refuge, if you want to get specific-and ripped my backpack up next to me, unzipping it, and letting the papers and books, and whatnot barf out messily onto my bed. Not only did I need to do my homework, but I also needed to reorganize my backpack. I usually reorganize it every other day, as there just isn't enough time in changing classes to keep things tidy.  
  
Spreading the objects across my comforter, I slid my now limp backpack to the ground, and start getting to work.  
  
  
By the time I'm almost finished with my homework, it's time for dinner, and Trowa has been home for quite awhile.   
  
I was forced to crawl out of my sanctuary by the calls of Quatre, re-enforcement of Trowa, and the ache of my empty organ called the stomach.   
  
Sitting down at the table, we passed around the bowls full of food, dishing the contents onto our plates. Once the hot ceramics were put down onto the table safely, and we had started eating, light conversation passed between my brother and his friend. I idly listened in, tuning out once in a while.   
  
"Did you notice the new schedules coming up?" I heard Trowa say absently.  
  
Quatre made an 'Mm'ing sound, and swallowed his food, politely. "The new professor is teaching Trig. I was wondering who Mr. Cruvay was going to put in Mrs. Repouis' place, once she left this coming semester."  
  
"The new teacher apparently just moved into town yesterday, or the day prior. We're also supposed to be expecting at least two more professors, but the names are pending. No one's positive about anything right now."   
  
I tune out again, and finish my meal in silence. When I finish, I get up, and take my plate to the sink, before going to the trash can, and attempting almost vainly, to pull out the full bag. The chores are simple here. If Quatre makes dinner, Trowa does dishes. And vice versa. I take out the trash. Though usually Quatre helps Trowa out, and Trowa helps Quatre out, so it only sucks to be me around here. Hauling trash down to the ground floor was /not/ anyone's even vague idea of fun.  
  
Leaning my back against a counter, I put a foot on the actual trashcan, and pulled out the bag; the can skidding across the floor, and making a rather loud thud. Tying the ends into a knot, I slung the semi-sticky bag over my shoulder, and nodded to the two at the table, before slipping on my shoes, and heading out the door. I hurried down the hall, to the elevators, and pressed the 'down' button with my free hand.   
  
I set the bag down, while waiting, and involuntarily shivered. I left my jacket at home, and my plain long sleeve shirt wasn't helping that much. Though it was a lot better than running around naked, I suppose.  
  
A mechanical ding-sounding wannabe echoed through the hall, and I hopped on, sliding the bag over the crack, before hitting the 'g' button. A sudden jerk announced the beginnings of the ride down, and I waited impatiently for the elevator ride to end.   
  
Another jerk announced the arrival to my destination, and I put the bag back over my shoulder, and hurried over to the garbage bin. Putting the garbage in, I all but ran to the stairs-I wasn't in the mood to ride the elevator again-and took two at a time up. I slowed down my pace, and went down the corridor to our apartment again, and entered.  
  
After shifting a quick glance to my brother, who was giving a small smile, and Quatre, who was laughing quietly, while the two did the dishes together, I shook my head briefly, and headed to my room, to finish what I had started before dinner.  
  
  
  
I woke with a start, my eyes flying open, my hand involuntarily grabbing the pillow that was nowhere near my head. Groggily I blinked my eyes open, trying to recess what had just occurred.   
  
Realization dawned on me slowly, and I stiffly sat up from my folded over position on my bed. My lights were still on, and my books were neatly underneath my body, bright red imprints no doubtedly marring my heated skin.  
  
Sorely picking up each book from under my legs, I piled them onto one another, and set them on the floor, next to my backpack. Apparently I /had/ finished organizing; I just fell asleep before I had put them down.   
  
Slowly standing, I slogged over to the light switch and turned off my lights, as the little electric alarm clock by my bed glowed out the digits 2:47AM. I was too tired to change into decent bedclothes, and lay down on my bed softly, and correctly this time, sleep ruling over my mind after a few more minutes of quietness.  
  
  
  
The second time I woke, it was due to the alarm clock blaring, 5:00AM blinking furiously. Drowsily, I hit the off button, and sat up, rubbing my eyes.   
  
My back and shoulders were screaming in pain from sleeping so oddly for half of the night, and I couldn't help but wince, and shift to an easier position for my muscles. No luck, there wasn't any.  
  
After a few minutes of mental persuasion, I stood up, and tried stretching slowly. It helped, but hurt like hell.  
  
Moving over to my chest of drawers, I opened two drawers, and pulled out an outfit for today. Oh, look. Variety. Jeans and a long sleeve green sweater-shirt. The shirt was a bit big, the sleeves almost going past my fingers, but I didn't care that much-it helped keep my hands warm, in these cold winter days.  
  
Stepping out of my room, I left to the now-vacant bathroom that we sometimes had to share. There were two bathrooms in the apartment, but you know how it goes. Two bathrooms, three guys. Do the math.  
  
I took a shower hurriedly, and got dressed, trying to not step on the wet areas of the bathroom tile so my jeans wouldn't get wet /before/ I left the apartment.  
  
Hopping out into the hallway, I tried to stop as many drips that were slowly sliding their way down my face and neck from my still-wet hair. I never bother styling it. I'm not vain.  
  
I went to my room, and got a pair of socks from one of my drawers, and pulled out my sneakers. If I had been vain, I can tell you right now I would not ever wear those sneakers, as they were /yellow/ of all colors. But… I just don't care what people think of me. And they keep my feet warm, and un-frost bitten.  
  
After that, I not so gently jammed my books and whatnot in my backpack, and left my dark room.  
  
Once I was in the foyer area, I nodded a tired hello to Quatre, who was obnoxiously perky, in his happy little morning person way. His classes didn't start for a while now, and Trowa always leaves insanely early. Well, not always. But he does leave pretty early.  
  
"You're leaving early today." Quatre pointed out.  
  
I nodded again. "I usually do, remember? I go to Howard's store and get coffee." I say, while biting back a yawn.  
  
He looks reflective for a moment. "Oh, yeah."   
  
I grab my coat from a coat-rack. Someone must have picked it up for me. Must have been Quatre from the look he's trying to pin me with.   
  
I ignore it, and half-wave behind me, as I leave the cozy, warm, and lit up apartment, and go to the hall, where it's cold, desolate, and dark. And damn cold. I put my backpack on the floor, and pull on my coat as fast as I possibly can, fighting the urge to shiver. I clamp my teeth down to prevent my teeth from chattering. Zipping up my jacket, I pick up my backpack, and walk in long, quick strides down the stairs, and to the sidewalk.  
  
In the morning, it's almost my ritual to go over to Howard's convenience store, get a cup of coffee, and once in awhile, if I'm hungry, a biscuit. There's no better coffee than that of a convenience store. Or maybe I'm just raised cheap.  
  
After a 15-minute brisk walk that left me hot and cold at the same time, I opened the door of the mini-mart-esque store, and nodded a polite hello to Howard. He grinned and half-waved. He understood my morning thoughts, and grogginess.  
  
I make a beeline to the coffee counter, and make a large, hot cup of coffee, only adding minimum creamer and sugar. I go over to the counter, and fish out a buck eighty-nine. Howard lets me usually have a discount, just because I hang out there a lot. The whole, 'friends in high places' bit.   
  
I lean my forearms against the counter, heavily, and take a few sips, almost feeling awake instantly. The hot drink slid down my throat, warming my insides with a burning feeling.  
  
"Howard, how do you get up early enough to do everything you do here? Do you ever sleep?" I ask, almost interestedly.  
  
He shrugged, half-heartedly, still smiling. "I do have a coffee counter in here, you know."  
  
I smirk lightly, and nod my head. Just as I was doing that, though, the door burst open, right as a wind was blowing in. I flinched inwardly, as the door was quickly slammed shut by the same person who had opened it.   
  
Peeling off a snow-covered, once black cap-and I presumed with that, that it had started to snow again-a chestnut braid flew out from underneath it, and smacking a black pea coat clad back.   
  
"Shit, it's cold. I had forgotten how damn cold it gets up here." An almost alto voice cried out.  
  
I arched an eyebrow at the boy who had just disturbed our warmth. He was relatively pale, but most people are around here. Black denim jeans came out from under the coat, and black boots to go with the whole ensemble. Almost violet eyes glared angrily at the weather outside.  
  
"Oi, Duo! Glad you came back!" Howard called over to him, raising his arm in the air in a sort-of-wave.   
  
I instantly recognized the boy from yesterday, from his attire. Definatly not from the look he was giving. He seemed a lot more full of life, today.  
  
A devilish grin was tossed across his face, as he, also, went to the coffee counter.   
  
"Of course! Do you think I'd leave you with only one small taste of Duo? Hell no! Once you've met me, you're stuck!" He called out from pouring his small cup, before pouring an /obscene/ amount of sugar in, and creamer. Topping it off with a lid, and a smirk, he moved right over to the counter, and leaned heavily on it, the same was I was, before I stood up, and leaned against the wall on my side.   
  
He was kind of … weird. And loud.  
  
Howard must have seen me closing away from the boy, before turning toward me, after putting Duo's money in the register drawer, and pronouncing loudly, "This is Heero! He comes here almost as much as me!" He laughed at this, before continuing. "Heero, this is Duo. He just moved here from California."  
  
"Color me surprised," I muttered sardonically.   
  
Duo turned frighteningly fast, a smirk playing upon his lips. He had an almost psychotic look to him at that moment. And it looked eerily familiar. I frowned.  
  
"Nice to meet you, Heero!" He said.  
  
I defensively felt myself hardening. I didn't want to trust this person. I nodded slightly at him.  
  
"Ah, Heero doesn't talk that much. Maybe you can be his mouth for him, Duo." Howard said, slyly. Shit. He really wasn't trying to get me to be more social, was he? Damn him. Damn him and his old, conniving ways.  
  
I snorted softly, but didn't miss the evil look that the two passed between them. This wasn't going to wind up very good for me.  
  
Glaring stonily at Howard for trying to pull something so stupid on me, I pushed myself off of the wall, and still glaring at Howard, and briefly at Duo, I muttered something about school, being late, and promptly left.   
  
As I exited the warm little shop, I cowered down, trying to fold myself into my jacket. The wind was exceptionally cold, and contrary to what I had thought, it wasn't snowing. I buried my empty hand into my sleeve, and trying to get the tips of my fingers covered from the wind. The hot cup was keeping the half of my fingers warm, almost scalding my hand. But it felt good.  
  
Shoving my free hand into my pocket, I tensed up as I felt a hand gripping around my arm, someone jogging next to me to keep up.  
  
"Oi! You go to Attlie, right?" Duo asked, grinning like a madman.   
  
"Where else would I go?" I responded, gruffly, coming to the crossroads where I usually met up with Wufei.  
  
"Hey, why are we stopping?" He asked, looking around curiously.  
  
I rolled my eyes, and shrugged my arm out away from his grasp. "/I'm/ waiting for a friend."   
  
"Really? What's his name? Is he as talkative as you? Does HE have the national forest stuck up his butt? Because you obviously have the local one up yours."  
  
I never wanted to make anyone shut up more than this guy, ever. Not even Quatre. At least Quatre's polite when he's talking.  
  
Wufei finally came jogging up, before looking questioningly at Duo, his small framed glasses slightly fogged up. I shook my head before Wufei could ask who Duo was, and turned, walking, toward the school.  
  
"Hey!" I heard Duo yell behind us, annoyed at being left. I could hear him walking toward us, and grimaced.  
  
He wormed his way in between Wufei and I, before grinning at Wufei. Does this guy have any other facial expressions? Or… Nevermind.  
  
"Heero's being rude, and apparently doesn't hold with him the common gesture of introduction. I'm Duo, and I'm new in town." Duo stated, after giving me one hell of a look.  
  
Wufei stared blankly at Duo, but still managed to keep pace, and not trip. "Chang Wufei," He said. I think his brain was running on the same tracks of thought that mine had been earlier. About this guy and his talking, anyway.  
  
  
  
By the time we had gotten to the school grounds, I was beyond ready to hit something, or someone. I missed the companionable silence that Wufei and I held. I liked my quietness, I liked only making actions that were necessary to get the job done.   
  
Duo did nothing of this. All the way to school, he was talking, bouncing, trying to get us to talk. Only once did Wufei talk, and that was to scream at Duo to shut up. I felt oddly proud when he did that. But still pretty pissed.  
  
As we entered the building, I nodded a farewell to Wufei, since we only shared so many classes, and first period was not one that we shared. I was ready to dump Duo in the halls, when he bit his lip and looked nervously around.  
  
"Saa… Heero, do you mind telling me where the main office is?" He asked, looking rather lost.  
  
I was about to tell him to go find it himself, but Mrs. Noin, the vice principle magically knew that I was about to do this, and stood over us, smiling.  
  
"Ah, Heero! I see you've found our newest student! I'm glad that you two have made friends so quickly! You'll do well to escort Mr. Maxwell to the main office, and to all of his classes." She said, almost victoriously.   
  
"But, Mrs. Noin-" I interjected. What about my own damn classes?  
  
"Ah, ah, ah," She wagged a finger at me. "Do as your told. And anyway, most of your classes, he'll be taking.  
  
"Oh, dear. It looks like some of the students got a hold of some toothpaste. I have to go take care of that," She said, dejectedly, glancing over our heads to some students who were having toothpaste fights. "Duo, it was good to meet you, and I hope you enjoy your stay here."  
  
Mrs. Noin hurried off to calm the students down, and I turned to glower and the sheepishly smiling Duo.  
  
Rolling my eyes, I roughly grabbed his coat-covered arm, and dragged him down the hall.  
  
  
By the end of the school day, I was fairly angry and annoyed. This Duo kid was one of the biggest nuisances ever. He kept talking, and people kept talking back to him. He was a regular little social bug, and forced me to endure it. I am not a people person. I don't want to be a people person, either, for the record.  
  
When the final bell rang, I vanished from him, and all but ran to the apartment, after informing Wufei that I had to help Quatre make dinner.  
  
Usually I stopped by to talk to Howard on the way back, but I didn't feel like risking meeting up with Duo again.  
  
When I got to the complex, and up the stairs, I was sore and tired. Sore from the odd sleeping I had done that night. And I wasn't sure why I was tired.  
  
I opened the door-which was rather odd, because it should have been locked,--and kicked off my jacket and shoes at the door. Again.  
  
I looked up, and surprisingly met the gaze of my older brother.  
  
"Going to put those up?" He asked, rhetorically.  
  
Rolling my eyes, I put away my backpack, jacket and shoes. As if it mattered.  
  
"Oi, Heero," Quatre called out from the kitchen.   
  
I wondered briefly why they both were home. Usually Quatre or Trowa had evening classes.  
  
"We're expecting company over tonight. One of our new professors." Quatre continued. He said something quietly to Trowa, who had just entered the kitchen, but I couldn't make it out.  
  
"Sucking up to the new teachers? That's pretty low." I don't know why I was compelled to utter this. Maybe it was from hanging around that idiot all day.  
  
Quatre stared at me through the little window in the kitchen. Trowa recovered first. "No. Some of the students were assigned to make the professors feel more at home in town."  
  
I nodded slowly, still trying to figure out just why I said what I did, before trekking into my room.  
  
  
When Quatre called me out to greet our guest, I was engrossed in a book, and upset to have been disturbed, but I came out anyway.  
  
A man stood a few feet into the apartment, incredibly long platinum blond hair hanging just at the beginning of his thighs. Bangs fell heavily into bright blue eyes, a smile gracing his face politely, as he took off his jacket. He was wearing.. well, what I figured professors would not wear. A pair of black jeans and a white business shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the buttons only buttoned to the second to last button down at his collar.   
  
"Heero, this is Milliardo Peacecraft, one of our new professors this coming semester." Trowa said. He looked a little uncomfortable from speaking so much. Not that I blamed him.  
  
I put out a hand in his direction, and nodded in a polite-sort of greeting. "Nice to meet you."  
  
"You, too, Heero. I don't know if you've met my cousin yet, but I think he's struggling with his shoes outside your door, if you'd like to say hi." He said kindly, after shaking my hand firmly.  
  
Right after Milliardo had said what he did, Duo almost fell through our doorway, before catching himself on the doorframe. "Oi! Heero! I didn't know you were related to these people!" He said, almost shocked.  
  
The only think I knew, was that I was mildly pissed off. 


End file.
